


Testosterone

by kinkmerighthererightnow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha action, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, I'm pretty sure I should use violence and non-con trigger warnings, M/M, and this really isn't that bad.., but the archive warnings seem so extreme, hm, it's rather harmless actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkmerighthererightnow/pseuds/kinkmerighthererightnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The few weeks John Watson has been living with Sherlock Holmes, he's barely had any contact with Omegas.<br/>Two Alphas in one flat, constantly around each other, without an omega scent crucial to the alpha's balance - well, biology tends to be a... not very nice companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testosterone

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spontaneous idea that had to be written down.  
> It's less than three pages - yay to me!

“I am _not_ gay!” John kept preaching.

Sherlock stayed silent. Never denying, never confirming.

 

People kept throwing them looks as if they knew. Well, then they knew something John didn't. Not consciously. It was all there and Sherlock deduced it several times a day just to please himself. John kept denying it and the comments were only making his head thicker in that respect, but the tension, it was almost palpable and John could tell himself what he wanted, he was at least sexually attracted to Sherlock.

Doctor John Hamish Watson, army doctor and soldier, most two-faced Alpha he knew, strong and dominant with a bag full of kittens attached to his front; and he wanted sex with his alpha flatmate.  
Of course, John knew what other people didn't. Sherlock kept calling him an idiot, but that was more tease and show-off than actual judgement. In fact, John was very clever, especially when it came to reading personalities. Sherlock had him believing he was a sociopath for about two days, then he'd figured out the whole masquerade – never saying so, but it was visible, it had changed, the way John looked at him. Stares intensified, touches lingered and words just became a bit too indefinite. They had to crash some day.

They didn't have Omegas around, except for clients and most of their relations were Betas, few Alphas – the obligatory Omega at the Met. Not really enough to satisfy alpha desire to be in the presence of Omegas, which was one of the big flaws of the two dominant yet, nowadays, rarer sexes: They need to be in contact with the opposite sex. It had little to do with actual instinct to mate; there didn't need to be any intimacy, the pure exchange of pheromones sufficed to sooth either side, the instincts to protect and nurture and the instincts to provide and submit. 

But even that was hard to find these days and if they couldn't vent, alpha hormones dammed until they spiked. That's when the Alpha would run crazy and they'd need to find an alternative. Rut-like.

The combination of that and their already existing sexual tension made them into a time bomb.And nothing, no artificial scents, no suppressants could resolve that.

 

The bomb exploded after three case-less weeks. They had been aggressive with each other for the past three days and when Sherlock refused to leave his thinking poise to do the dishes, it was their time to shine. Well, rather not so much shine as anything else..

“Sherlock, would you please get your lazy arse off the sofa and do your bloody dishes!?”

 

“No.” Sherlock replied calmly, arrogantly; he knew full well, he also knew he was being hormonal. That didn't mean he couldn't _enjoy_ this a little.

 

John stared at him in disbelief. And rage. “Are you being a total dick on purpose?!” Sherlock's replyof raising an eyebrow was clearly not satisfying. Good. “Clean. Up!”

 

“No.”  


“Sherlock!”

 

“No.”

 

“I swear to God!”

 

“Oh, what are you going to do, _John_.” Sherlock spat as he stood up, towering before the older Alpha, looking down with a challenging eye.

 

There was a moment in which they both just stared and breathed, nostrils flared, chests puffed. It was Sherlock who gave the final provocation by shoving John. The reaction was immediate, John tackled him throwing him over backwards. Sofa still to his back, Sherlock partly landed on it, his back crashing into the armrest before he slid to the floor, pushing John's shoulder around until he was flat on his back on the wood. But John wouldn't be John if he just gave up at that. A precise hit with his knee between his legs and Sherlock doubled away. The older man pinned him almost effectively, but before he could get the final grip, they were flipped around again, followed by many more shoves and hits and kicks until, finally, John managed to get the upper hand, staring down triumphantly, pride, challenge and.. lust in his eyes.  
Surprisingly, John leaned down, kissing him hard, intense and passionate. Kissing him; despite his shirt just being ripped open, hands forcing themselves inside his trousers, popping the button by straining it too much. Sherlock still struggled, trying to control, undressing John in much the same manner in the act.

Before he knew it, the detective was kissing the wooden boards as John held him down, his hand between his shoulder blades, his pelvis crowding his body to fold, arse up high in the air – the very omega position during traditional mating. Every nerve inside his body light up with the thought of 'wrong,  _wrong_ ,  _**wrong** _ !' and he kept trying to push his chest up, but John's hand blocked his shoulders quite successfully and, boy, the ex-soldier was easily underestimated. When he felt the foreign and ' _**wrong** _ ' sensation of something entering his arse, something way too big, way too hard to feel comfortable, he turned his head around to look into John's scratched, triumphant face, almost grinning as he thrust in forcefully again. Sherlock tried growling and clawing back at the doctor's thighs, but when an Alpha claimed in hormonal haze, there was nothing to stop them. And, honestly, Sherlock had been trying to do the exact same. 

So as he lay there, grunting in competition with John, staring him in the eye undefeated, scrubbing the floor with his cheek, all that was protesting in him was his alpha nature. Quite frankly, Sherlock had wanted to overcome John's ridiculous attempts to fake strict heterosexuality, cutting their attraction to one another with a glass knife, the day they met and he didn't care about whether he'd serve as John's bitch or his toy – for the first time in his life, he felt desire and he wouldn't fuss over the way it was satisfied. But right now, there and then, they were hormonal, two bodies flooded with testosterone and, God, would John have it coming back at him.

Even the hits to the prostate! God,  _ especially _ the hits to the prostate! He was aiming for it, wasn't he?! Oh, that wicked doctor.

Sherlock's snarl turned into a dirty grin, then a low moan, which encourage John, confirming that he was at the right angle and if Sherlock thought he'd been fucked until now, he knew better when John started practically plunging into him, his prostate a regular destination on that fat cock's journey, pushing the younger man quickly to the brink despite himself.

With a brief shout, the taller Alpha climaxed, painting the floor and his own chest in white, his hole clenching painfully around John, who, as a result, came inside him with a howl.

 

There followed quick shags on the couch, John's chair, the kitchen table (knocking over a number of test tubes and other science equipment), the kitchen counter, the wall in the narrow hallway, Sherlock's bedroom door, Sherlock's bedroom floor and, finally, Sherlock's bedroom.. bed.

Sherlock arched with a moan-shout and released John's arms where he had spread them wide to each side of his battered body and rolled off him, their breaths racing.

At some point they turned their heads to look at each other and began to laugh instantly, post-orgasmic bliss lightening the spirit. 

 

“I won't be sitting for the next three years!” remarked John, disbelieving tone tinting his chuckles.

 

“Same here.” Sherlock replied giddily.

 

“We _knotted_!”

 

“A _couple_ of times, yes.”

 

“....wow...”

 

“Yes...”

 

“I thought you're not-”

 

“I wasn't! But I was attracted to you the moment I deduced your military career.”

 

“Oh, a bit of a kink, have we?”

 

“I never said I didn't.”

 

“..so... is this now, like.. a regular thing?”

 

“Why, would you like that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yeah..”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought Sherlock and John would either be both Alphas or both Omegas.. dunno why.. I mean, any way works for me with this ship, but that's just the most plausible to me *shrugs* Maybe I'll write an O/O one next, after I've posted at leas one more chapter to my A/O fic (which you should totally check out, btw. ;P
> 
> Have the loveliest of days!


End file.
